Vance Was the Name
by Random Guise
Summary: An extension of the ending of the 2000 film "The Legend of Bagger Vance". Hardy Greaves has a reunion with the man who taught him so much about golf...and life. I don't own these characters, and golf is not my game.


**A/N: An extension of the ending of the 2000 movie "The Legend of Bagger Vance".**

* * *

Vance Was the Name

Hardy Greaves picked himself up off the ground and grabbed his golf bag, wheeling it behind him as he made his way down the fairway. He didn't feel any ill effects from his heart attack a few minutes ago; it seemed his sixth was a lot like his third one – or was it the second one? In the distance he saw a figure up on a berm on the edge of the hole, waving. He squinted to get a better look. "Can't a man play a quiet game without having a damn gallery distracting him?" he grumbled. He didn't need any witnesses to his struggles on the green; or the occasional mulligan he allowed himself. He took another look and couldn't make out the face, but the clothes...the clothes...only one person he could remember looked like that. What was his name? Something Vance...

Bagger Vance.

But that was seventy years ago, he thought as he continued walking in the direction of the spectator. He squinted again, and could see the man's face. It WAS Bagger. Same stupid grin, thin build, hat and coat; now the man was beckoning him to come over. Well, the only way to make a mirage go away was to walk up to it so that's exactly what Hardy did with the methodical step of his many years on the course.

But the mirage refused to go away, and in short order Hardy found himself standing in front of the man, looking exactly the same as the day he walked off the 18th during the great Jones-Hagen-Junuh match God knows how many decades ago. The day that Hardy grew up as he took over caddie duties for Savannah's own prodigy, Rannulph Junuh. Where he witnessed the epitome of sportsmanship and the camaraderie of the game of golf; hell, any sport for that matter - and all before the age of twelve.

"Hello Hardy" Bagger said as though they had just talked minutes ago. "It was a fine day for a game, wasn't it?" It was more of a statement than a question; Bagger tended to do that. He could ask and tell you at the same time, if you just paid attention.

"Just tell me how the hell you are standing there after all these years?" Hardy asked incredulously.

"Oh, it was just a moment ago since we last spoke." He looked at the setting sun. "I think it was just yesterday. My that's a beautiful sunset; sets off the blades of the grass, the leaves of the tree and sho' lights up the flag on the pin. It all just blends together as one big whole."

Hardy noticed. It had been the middle of the day when he picked himself up from the ground; now suddenly it seemed to be near the end of the day. You just couldn't tell what nature was going to do when Bagger started dishing out his wisdom. "You come to give me some more tips on my game? I'll tell you now, I've tried just about everything and nothing helps anymore."

"Nah. You done played the game in your own way; I think you know that you found that authentic swing I told you about. Game's over now."

Hardy thought hard. Bagger was doing it again; the man spoke about golf and life as though it was interchangeable. Although, Hardy had to admit, there was a lot to be said about the idea - lessons from one tended to apply to the other, and vice versa. It was almost like...

"Wait." Hardy looked around. The light was dimming for sure with the sunset, but he should still be able to see parts of the course off in the distance. Instead there was only the putting green down below, the ridge here with Bagger, and the ocean on the other side; everything else in the distance was obscured in all directions by a gray mist. Hardy continued his train of thought; there was something nagging at him and he had to ponder for a moment before he figured it out. "Son of a bitch - I died, didn't I? That's the end of the game! Well, at least I didn't die picking up dog crap like Leroy did."

Bagger looked off in the distance and then returned his gaze to Hardy. "A game is only a game; you start, you play, you end. You do well, you do poorly, but you play and then it's done. You don't win; nobody wins life. Mister Yardley's dogs meant as much to him as golf means to you and you both finished while doing what you loved. That is the harmony of all that is..."

"...All that was..." Hardy remembered out loud.

"...and all that will be. That's right. I think you found your place in the field, Hardy. Now there's a new field to play. A new course everyone gets to play eventually."

"Don't get me wrong Bagger, I'm ready to go now that Celeste is gone. I just can't believe you've been waiting around for me all these years. You should have said something sooner - I woulda come."

"You don't walk off the course until you've played the last hole. Except for looking in the trees for your ball, of course - you done enough of that in life. But don't feel bad; everbody knocks one off the course now and then in life. Tell you what; I got some other folks that I gotta fetch too. Come along with me and we'll all move along together." Bagger motioned for Hardy to lead down the steps that lead to the ocean, although the body of water was now obscured by the fog. Carefully, Hardy made his was down the steps, only to be surprised when they turned from stone to carpet and he found himself at the bottom of a stairway inside a house. Nearby, a be-specked man stood.

"Bagger?" the man asked as Hardy's companion came down the stairs with a big smile.

"The very same. Earl Anthony, meet Hardy Greaves." The two new acquaintances shook hands.

"Funny, you just missed me taking a big tumble down those stairs" he said quietly. "A man could get seriously hurt doing that."

"Or in your case, worse" Bagger agreed.

"This man is the best bowling coach around" Earl explained to Hardy. "I had a heart attack a couple decades ago and I didn't know if I was going to ever play again, but Bagger set me straight. Ignore the crowd, the house, my opponent; just me, the ball, and those ten pins at the end. Get back to my own swing and delivery and play it one throw at a time. All that is..."

"...All that was..." Hardy chimed in. He was starting to see a pattern.

"...and all that will be" Bagger finished. "We'll be covering the 'will be' section next, Earl."

"I kinda thought that; I last thing I remember I heard a snap I didn't like when I fell there. But you haven't changed in over twenty years!"

"Longer, I'd say" Hardy added.

"You bowl, Hardy?" Earl asked.

"No, sorry. Golf's my game."

"I'm not too bad; maybe we'll have a match later. Any chance of that, Bagger? Any golf where we're going?"

"You never know, Earl. Maybe we'll make it a foursome. I've got two more people that might give it a try after I get them."

"How many people you coach?" Hardy asked.

"You'd be surprised. Life's like a game; it's amazing what you can apply when you put your mind and some time to it. Anyway, we've got a..." Bagger paused as he looked like he was thinking. Hardy chuckled; he figured it was for effect because Bagger was never at a loss for words.

Bagger continued "...Mr. Ulysses Grant and a Samuel Clemens to get. Trust me gentlemen, you'll like 'em - they nice folk. Like everyone, they had a spot of trouble in life but I pointed 'em in the right direction and they took over from there. Now if you'll both follow me..."

The three walked into the mist that was filling the nearby doorway and disappeared.

The End

* * *

**A/N: I have never stepped onto a golf course before (mini-putt doesn't count) but I enjoyed the feel of this movie; it seemed right. One of the more pastoral sports, it was set in the early 1900's which only emphasized its natural charm. I'm not going to jump up and run play the game mind you...**


End file.
